That's just not right," Sam muttered. "Claude needs to keep his pants on.

No matter what happens in public—no matter what—don’t doubt that I love you and care about your welfare . . . as much as I am able.

But there's a juicy artery in your groin," he said after a pause to regroup, his voice as slithery as a snake on a slide. "Don't you talk dirty," I told him. "I won't listen to that.

I am self-educated from genre books.

What are you, Zen Master Fang?

Eric followed Vlad Tepes’s stubby finger, identifying me as the future Happy Meal. Then he stared at Dracula, looking up from his kneeling position. I couldn’t read his face at all, and I felt a stirring of fear. What would Charlie Brown have done if the Great Pumpkin wanted to eat the little red-haired girl?

I have lived one step away from losing my mind for years. I am quick and accurate in spotting unstable streaks in others.